


Potato Pirates

by JennTheMastermind



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Humor, OUAT - Freeform, Pirates, Potato Gun, Potato Launcher, Potatoes, Ridiculousness, Shenanigans, Snowing - Freeform, Tumblr Prompt, just in time for the premier, this is the most ridiculous thing ive written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennTheMastermind/pseuds/JennTheMastermind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On their allotted day alone, Emma and Killian discover a potato gun. Henry just so happens to have four sacks of potatoes. Instead of spending their time watching Netflix like they'd intended, they end up pirating Storybrooke armed with potatoes, rum, and mischievousness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Potato Pirates

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fanfic for the first-place winner of my fanfiction giveaway on tumblr, the lovely sunshine kybee1497.tumblr.com, and the fulfillment of the prompt: "Anything you want as long as it ends with '...and that's what happened to the potatoes.'"

Killian flinched when Emma touched the icepack to his head. She steadied him when he almost fell off the arm of the couch in her parent’s apartment. She really needed her own place.

She winced, “Sorry, sorry.” 

He smiled, covering her hand with his and taking the ice. His cheeks were slightly red from the rum and cold night air outside. Hers probably were, too. 

“It’s alright, Swan. We’ve had closer encounters.”

“Not like this.”

“Sure we have, love. Shall I count them-”

Killian almost dropped the icepack when the apartment door opened and Emma startled. Henry was the first through, snow dusting the shoulders of his jacket.

“Hey, Mom,” he beamed, nose pinked. “Hey, Killian.”

“Hey, kid,” Emma smiled with a heavy breath. She ruffled the snow from his hair.

“Whoa, what’s with the sighs?” David asked, closing the door behind him, Mary Margaret, and Regina.

“What do you mean ‘sighs?’ It was only one-” Emma began, realizing it was pointless.

As David took Mary Margaret’s coat to hang up, Regina whispered something to Henry with a smile. He nodded and hurried to the pantry. Emma’s stomach fell.

“What happened, Killian?” Mary Margaret worried over the noticeably sized bump swelling on his head.

He waved away her concern, “It’s nothing; my own clumsiness. I was searching the cabinets for mugs to make some cocoa and cinnamon for Emma and I and accidentally hit me head on the door.”

Mary Margaret hummed sympathetically. She rested a hand on his shoulder and her disposition immediately brightened, “But other than bumps on the head, did you two enjoy your day?”

Emma was taken by surprise at her mother’s brightness. She shared a glance with Killian again. Sure, they'd enjoyed it.

“Uh,” she stumbled. “Yeah! Yeah, we did.”

“Although, I’m not sure the rum enjoyed being consumed so much,” Regina quipped.

“The rum has no other purpose,” Emma leveled, a slow smile growing, “and no feelings.” 

Regina smirked, her comment revealed as lighthearted teasing.

“Did you enjoy your day?” 

“A snowy day is never cold with fire magic.”

“We had fun,” Mary Margaret intervened, smiling.

Regina opened her mouth for another cunning comment when Henry ran back into the room.

“They’re GONE!” He yelled.

“What’s gone?” David asked.

“The potatoes! The ones for my science project at school mom was going to help me with tomorrow. They’re gone!”

“How can they just be gone?” Regina repeated.

“I don’t know, mom, but they’re gone.”

“Where’d they go? Who’d take potatoes, of all things?” Mary Margaret asked to no one in particular, looking around the apartment. Then, she turned to Killian and Emma, “No one broke in, did they? Did you two leave at all today?”

Henry looked to Emma, hopeful for an answer, and she felt nauseous. She felt Killian’s fingers entwine with hers, cold from the icepack. She wasn’t alone; the truth was theirs; it was their screw-up.

Under the solid gazes of her parents, son, and Regina, Emma shared another look with Killian. She toed a boot into the wood floor. Neither of them was sober or prepared enough for this. 

They’d had a plan before…it just hadn’t worked out.

“Mom, what happened to the potatoes?” Henry implored.

“Well,” Emma began and it came out in a rush, “we meant to replace the potatoes we just forgot what time it was and didn’t realize—It’s like this:”

_-_-_-_-_-_

...Earlier that Day…

“I’m insulted,” Killian exclaimed for the fifth time that hour.

Emma laughed for the fiftieth time that hour.

“This is no laughing matter, Swan! That Captain is an imposter. I’d have a word with this Disney.”

Emma, face buried into Killian’s shoulder just to keep her peals of laughter quiet, managed to say, “It’s a cartoon movie!”

“I don’t care if it’s just a movie! Pan isn’t a hero, he’s a bloody demon! I don’t have a mustache like that and nor do I wear a funny, feather hat!”

She lifted her head, her ribs aching, “But what if you did?”

“But what if I didn’t, Swan. I will never wear a funny, feather hat.”

“I bet my mom has one in her closet,” Emma straightened up, poised to jump off the couch. “She’s a schoolteacher. Schoolteachers have things like that.”

Killian caught at her arm and their blunder nearly removed the open pizza box from the coffee table.

“I don’t think it entirely respecting to go through your mother’s effects, love. Why don’t we sit back down and continue watching this…” Killian gestured to the paused TV screen vaguely, “this Netflix device?”

Emma smirked, straddling his lap and entwining their fingers. “My parents left with Henry and Regina for the day so we can spend some time together alone. What Mary Margaret doesn’t know won’t hurt her. And besides, it’s a harmless hat-”

“Not so harmless to my reputation, love-”

“You don’t have a perm or a waxed mustache,” Emma reassured him, “a feather hat won’t look so funny on you. And no one will see but me.”

“Emma-” 

Emma hauled him to his feet and to Mary Margaret’s closet. 

“Maybe David has one from the Enchanted Forest,” Emma commented distractedly as she began rifling through the copious amount of boxes. “He was just a sheppard, but maybe he found one…”

She glanced over her shoulder to find Killian simply standing in the doorway.

“Plundering through Snow White’s closet seems rather dishonest,” he began.

“Standing there and watching makes you a witness,” Emma hummed, “which makes you an accomplice. So, why don’t you just be my partner, instead?”

Convinced, Killian smirked and started on the other side of the closet.

Emma found a lot of shoes and Killian found some old jackets and a few minutes later she was grinning—in possession of a large, red hat with a ridiculous white, feather plume—and he was puzzled—in possession of a large gun of sorts with a long, red barrel and a black handle. Emma looked at his find with confusion and Killian looked at hers with dismay.

They traded. Emma studied the gun to figure out just what type it was and Killian felt the white feather, glaring mildly at it.

“I think this is a potato gun,” Emma mumbled, looking up to see Killian had put on the funny, feather hat. She covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. 

He raised an eyebrow, knowing he looked ridiculous but acting like he didn’t; as though the hat could be his next icon beside his hook. It was a type of hat that could only be dashing or charming when liquor was involved.

“Can I take a picture?” Emma managed, grinning.

“With that talking device you never answer so you can put it on your Book of Faces or Instant-Picture?” Killian dissented, a grin playing at his lips, too. “Are you satisfied now, Swan?”

Emma nodded, laughing, “It looks better on you without the perm and waxed mustache.”

“Now,” Killian gestured to the gun and wrapped an arm about her waist, “what’s this strange item doing among your mother’s things?”

“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure it’s a potato launcher,” Emma held the gun out in front of them.

“Potatoes?”

“Potatoes.”

“How strange.” 

After a moment’s pause, Emma leaned into Killian and muttered, “Want to try it out?”

_-_-_-_-_-_

“What could your lad possibly being doing that requires four sacks of potatoes?” Killian asked, holding one of Henry’s bags they’d found in the pantry under his arm as Emma carried the gun.

“It’s a science project,” she answered, “for school.”

“Does he plan to keep them in the dark and see how each sack grows differently, then?”

Emma shrugged, “He hasn’t told me. He wants to keep it a surprise. I don’t know what he’s doing, but Regina is helping him with it tomorrow.   
“So,” she stopped in the snowy alley behind her parents’ apartment complex and faced him, “however many potatoes we use we have to replace before the Store closes tonight and Henry gets home.”

Killian bowed in agreement as best one could with a funny, feather hat on his head. He hadn’t taken it off when they’d left the apartment and Emma didn’t say a word. Secretly, she thought he was fond of it.

He dropped the sack in the snow and held out a potato for her, “Lady’s first?”

“Why, thank you,” Emma beamed, taking the ammunition. She aimed the launcher down the alley but hesitated.

“What is it, Swan?”

“How far do you think this thing shoots?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m familiar with guns and cannons of the ordinary sort, but this is my first encounter with a thing such as this. Why?”

“This alley ends at the side entrance of Granny’s,” Emma glanced at him, “I don’t want to launch a potato through one of her windows.”

He stared down the alley at the diner, “She could always use it for her fries, love—”

“Killian—!”

“Or,” he added, “we can set up a target that’ll stop the potatoes from breaking any of her precious windows.”

With hands going cold despite their gloves, they pulled several trash cans into the middle of the alley. Yards away, Emma raised the launcher once more and aimed for the center trash can.

There was a decided thumk when she pulled the trigger and an echoing bang as the first potato hit its mark.

Emma jumped in exhilaration, urging Killian to try. They loaded the next potato and he poised the gun between hook and hand. Emma exhaled into her clutched hands to warm them, waiting for the next thumk.

The bang that followed was much louder than the first. Emma and Killian’s reactions were more exhilarated than the first time. With closer examination, they saw the potato had left a definite dent in the trash can.

So, they continued about their potato launching in easy amusement. That amusement came easier with the help of the rum in Killian’s flask. They challenged each other and made a game with targets, seeing who’s aim could best the other’s. By the time they came to the last few potatoes of the sack—constantly reminding each other they would buy another one for Henry—the trash cans were incredibly dented; the convexes’ shadows gave them all a dappled look.

Emma took the last, fatal potato and loaded the gun. 

“I bet you one more date, Swan, that you can’t shoot the lid off that middle can,” Killian dared.

“I bet you one more Disney movie, Hook, that I can,” Emma quipped confidently over her shoulder.

She took aim, ignoring the cold biting her fingertips, and squeezed the trigger. There was the thumk she expected but no bang. Instead, there was a shatter followed by dreadful silence. That was, of course, before the shouting began.

Emma hardly had time to look over the potato gun before Killian pulled her behind the wall of the apartment complex. The whiz of Granny’s crossbow rushed by them.

“I know you’re there, you hooligans!” Granny shouted. “Come out so I can shoot you like you shot my window!”

Emma was pressed between the wall and Killian, launcher still in hand; heart pounding in delinquent excitement like it used to when she was a kid stealing Pop-Tarts. She looked at Killian and found he was already focused on her, cheeks flushed and still wearing that funny, feather hat.

“If we’re going to continue our dueling with potatoes,” he whispered, “perhaps we should take it elsewhere.” 

“Yeah,” Emma breathed. 

_-_-_-_-_-_

“This should be sufficient, don’t you think, Swan?” Killian dropped another potato sack onto the snowy, forest floor.

They were in a decent sized clearing and Emma dropped her own sack in agreement. She set the potato gun down gently beside it and linked her arm with Killian’s, leaning into him for warmth. The white feather of his hat tickled the side of her face.

“I feel bad about Granny’s window,” Emma confessed, looking about the trees for their next targets.

“Aye, as do I. We’ll find some recompense to give her; I’m certain, love. But at the present,” Killian spun her gently into an embrace, “I think we should discuss how that last shot lost you our bet-”

“I don’t think that should count-”

“You didn’t, in fact, shoot the lid off the can, Swan-”

“No, I didn’t, because I shot it through Granny’s window! I propose a rematch.”

She watched him turn the thought around, dragging it out to tease her with his devilish smirk. His eyes were vibrantly blue against the snow-filled trees and pale sky. They were made brighter by his dark lashes.

“Alright, Swan,” he began, his warm breath fogging the small distance between them. “We each get our own sack of potatoes and whoever hits the most targets with them is the winner of our last bet that you lost.”

“I didn’t lose,” Emma leaned against his chest. “There was outside interference. But, I’ll take this new challenge. After I win, we can go to the store, replace Henry’s potatoes, and go home to watch another Disney movie.”

“You forget, love, that I have a few centuries more shooting experience than you.”

“Oh, I remember. I’d think if you’re that old, maybe your eyesight isn’t as good as it used to be.”

Emma pushed herself away quickly, laughing and teasing, only to have her arm circled by Killian’s hook and pulled back in. They were smiling when they kissed. It was long and full of the amorous passion that’d been swelling in her chest. The air was cold but his mouth was warm. Emma tasted the hint of rum on his lips and Killian’s fingers tangled in her blonde hair. 

“Do you want to take the first shot?” Emma grinned into his mouth.

He lingered on the kiss, “If m’ lady insists.”

“She does.” Emma slid her arms underneath his jacket and cherished his warm embrace. She kissed him gently, and then let her lips brush his as she said, “Because it’s cold out and she’d like to watch another Disney movie.”

“I thought you wanted a rematch?” 

Killian wrapped his arms around her closer, rubbing the small of her back to return some heat to her skin. She kissed his lips, the stubbled line of his jaw, and then rested her head in the crook of his neck.

“I do. I just want to get started so I can win and we can watch more Netflix together.”

Killian kissed her again before she pulled the funny, feather hat over his eyes. She pressed herself away successfully to the potato launcher. When Emma tossed it over to Killian with a laugh, he’d caught it as he righted his hat. His mischievous grin began the second round of their challenge.

They aimed for trees and bushes, the tallest branches and highest leaves, and even their own snowy target creations. Neither could best the other’s skill among the many thumks of potatoes. They remained equal in the points they awarded themselves—drawn into the snow—as they did in stolen kisses and shots of rum. 

All the while, the sun moved across the sky, continuing to illuminate the evening. As their sacks lightened, they reminded each other of their plan: replace potatoes before the Store closed and Henry returned home. 

Then, they’d remind each other they still had a few hours.

They had a few hours still when they came to a dozen potatoes and half a bottle of rum between them. They also had a draw on their snowy scoreboard. 

“Alright, Swan,” Killian began, potato launcher resting on his shoulder, “seeing as we’re matched despite your centuries of inexperience to my expertise, I have another challenge proposal-”

The whiz of an arrow silenced Killian as it stuck into the tree beside his head.

“Enough!” Shouted a voice far off into the trees from where the arrow came from. 

Emma and Killian shared a glance and—unlike with Granny—they were both prepared to run. They grabbed the sacks with their remnants and the gun and ran.

“Enough!” The voice followed; it sounded familiar to Emma, “Enough of these high speed potatoes assaulting my camp! I don’t know who you are, but those who attack a man’s   
home with no cause have no honor!”

They ran until the frozen air burned their lungs, the breath in front of them fogged, and their red cheeks numbed. Emma grabbed Killian’s hand and pulled him behind a large snow bank; one large enough to hide his funny hat without him taking it off.

“Is that Robin Hood?” Emma breathed.

“Aye, I suppose it is,” Killian confirmed, holding Emma’s hand and lacing their fingers. “I also suppose that clearing wasn’t as removed from the town as we thought.”

“You can’t hide from me in these woods!” Robin Hood yelled, drawing closer.

“He’s right, love. We can’t stay here—” 

He peered over the snow bank and Emma pulled him back, “No, we can’t. But we can run—”

“He knows these woods better than any a’one in Storybrooke—”

“We can run and stop him from chasing us,” Emma finished with a suggestive tilt of her head.

Killian raised an eyebrow, “And how do you propose we do that, Swan?”

“Watch.”

Emma stood and faced the way they’d come. She braced her feet into the snow and raised her hands, focusing on the trees’ branches laden with heavy ice in Robin Hood’s path. She closed her eyes and found the warmth of her magic. It sparked in her veins and she heard the heavy collapse of snow she was expecting.

She opened her eyes to see the trees free of their burden and snow piled high enough to give them a chance at escape. Emma smiled and held out her hand for Killian. He grinned, took it, and they fled the woods.

_-_-_-_-_-_

Emma and Killian wandered onto the docks with the last bag of potatoes. The feather of his funny hat lifted in the slight breeze. The sun was almost beginning to set, but they agreed they still had time to get Henry more potatoes. For now, their plan was to board the Jolly Roger in the harbor and launch potatoes into the water.

“We’ll have to keep a look-out for merpeople,” Killian warned. “Given our current record, it appears no place—however vacant—in Storybooke is uninhabited.”

“I don’t think it’ll matter much now,” Emma said as Killian helped her into a dingy they were to row out where the Jolly Roger was anchored. “Robin wouldn’t say much, but we   
both know Leroy is always at Granny’s. If anyone has a louder mouth than her, it’s him. There’s no way they’d keep quiet about this. The whole town must think they’re under some new attack by the infamous Potato Pirates.”

“Come now, Swan! I have a reputation to uphold. I can’t let it be ruined by such a title as that. And if the town comes running to you for saving—as it often does—I imagine it’ll be an easy crisis to solve.”

They each took an oar and made the dingy towards his ship. The icy water parted peacefully as they went. It was the only sound in the harbor besides their voices and a few, far-off gulls. Their breath fogged the open air more so than it had in the forest or alley.

“You’ve ruined your reputation with that hat, which I’ll blame the crisis on; it’s magically enchanted to make anyone who touches it assault people’s property with potatoes.”

“We’ve come across more ridiculous things in the Crocodile’s shop, I believe. And besides,” Killian released the oar to run his thumb and forefinger over the brim, raising an eyebrow, “I believe it looks quite stunning. Well worth causing a crisis over, don’t you think?” 

“It’ll certainly leave a lasting impression.”

“It’ll be my dashing good-looks and rapscallion charm that’ll leave the impression, love, not the hat.” 

Killian smirked at her as he pulled the trigger of the gun, launching a potato into the sea near the Jolly Roger. Emma laughed at his seriousness and the solid kerplunk the potato made as they came to a stop. 

They boarded the ship, potato sack and launcher over their shoulders, and Killian sighed like he was finally home.

“Now, love,” he turned to her with a smile, “should we take her out farther or leave her be and terrorize this bit of sea instead of our neighbors?”

Emma hummed and grabbed onto his jacket front. She leaned into him and he wrapped his arms about her waist.

“This bit of sea is fine,” she beamed. “It’s also closer to shore so we can still make it to the Store.”

“Aye,” he looked towards the horizon and nodded to the now setting sun, “and it appears we have a short time left.”

“That’s okay. It’s time enough.”

“Perhaps we could have our next date on the Jolly Roger,” Killian proposed. His voice went soft and so did Emma. “There may be less potato pirating involved, but we could still make it worthwhile. I wonder if that Wifi magic would work on board.”

“That’s if we have another date,” Emma said.

Killian distanced himself as though to look at her properly, like she couldn’t have said what he thought she just said.

“We haven’t finished our bet to see just yet, have we?” Emma smirked. She reached up, snagged the funny, feather hat from his head, and settled it on hers.

“That we haven’t, love,” Killian grinned. He relaxed back into their embrace with relief.

They played another variation of their challenge. They shared the last sack of potatoes and took turns launching them into the harbor to see who could make the longest ripples in the calm water. As they laughed and drank and disturbed the harbor, they intruded upon no merpeople or other sea-inhabitants with their debauchery. 

The game became less about whether they’d have one more date or watch one more Disney movie and more about watching the beauty of the sunset’s bright hues reflecting patterns in the rippling water; about her head on his shoulder and his finger’s laced with hers; about their legs dangling over the side of the Jolly Roger above the cold sea; about the laughs they still had at the entertaining thumks and kerplunks; about the bottle of rum they passed back and forth between soft kisses. They both knew they’d have another date. They both knew that date would include another Disney movie. They both knew their aim was equally, terrifyingly precise. There was really no point to their challenge besides the pure fun of making some carefree mischief together.

They continued their fun aboard the Jolly Roger even after all the potatoes were seemingly gone and the sun had yielded to the pale moon. It illuminated the dark water, its reflection waning and waxing though it stayed full. Water slapped the sides of the ship as Killian told her tales of his pirating voyages and she told him stories of her bail bonds adventures, gasping and laughing and the danger and absurdity in their pasts.

They continued their fun until they remembered.

“—Henry,” Emma gasped mid sentence.

“The lad’s project,” Killian breathed.

“His potatoes—”

“—the Store!” 

_-_-_-_-_-_

It was closed for the night by the time Emma and Killian returned from the Jolly Roger. Emma leaned her forehead against the Store’s door, her head beginning to pound from the rum. 

How could they have forgotten?

“Emma,” Killian touched her shoulder as gently as he said her name, “all will be well. We’ll return in the morning when the store first opens and replace the lad’s potatoes before he wakes.”

She turned her head to glance at him, “Henry’s supposed to get the potatoes tonight and stay at Regina’s. They were going to start his project in the morning.”

Killian narrowed his eyes for a moment at the Store’s “closed” sign, silently plotting or cursing it; she didn’t know. No matter what he was thinking, he didn’t let his optimism wane.

“Can you pick the lock to this door, Swan?” He asked. The inflections in his tone sounded like he was formulating a plan C to their situation.

Emma shrugged, “Yeah. It’s all about the tumblers, remember?”

“Aye,” he grinned. “Then, let’s get into this store, take Henry more potatoes—”

“That’s stealing—!”

“—and leave the money we owe for the Store’s owner with an anonymous note of apology and thanks.”

Emma stared. He raised an eyebrow and held out a persuasive hand. If the moment hadn’t been so serious and her head hadn’t ached from the rum, she probably would’ve laughed at how he still wore the feather hat.

She took his hand in agreement. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze before taking the potato launcher from her.

Crouched, she set to work on the lock with a few pins from her hair. Killian turned towards the desolate roads of Storybrooke as lookout. The streetlamps reflected yellow light onto puddles and mist wetting the asphalt. They also lit the door for Emma to see.

However, the whole process of breaking and entering would’ve been much less complicated and much quicker if they were sober and her hands weren’t turning numb with cold. Killian began to absently spin the potato launcher, lax in his watch as he waited.

“Killian,” Emma whispered, “can you please keep watch instead of messing around with the gun?” 

“Love, if the supposedly-banished Crocodile can walk around Storybrooke at night with the Sea Witch, the Dog Killer, and the bloody Dragon-Woman without notice, I believe we can break into this Store unseen—”

He was interrupted by another thumk. A hidden potato accidentally launched into the air. Emma spun on her heels just in time to see the root come falling down directly on Killian’s head, knocking the funny, feather hat off.

Would this have happened if rum had not been a contributing factor of their evening? Emma didn’t know. 

Killian let out a string of creative curses only a sailor would know. Emma rushed to quiet him and examine his head. As she did, lights from people’s homes began to turn on. 

Their opportunity was gone. 

“We need to go,” Emma whispered, picking up the launcher he’d dropped.

Killian let out one final curse and, with an apologetic glance, picked up the hat.

They made it back to the apartment before anyone was the wiser of their activities and before anyone else returned home. The TV was still paused on an image of the cartoon   
Captain Hook. The pizza box was still opened on the coffee table. The potatoes were still gone.

Emma and Killian hurried to Mary Margaret’s closet and replaced the launcher and funny, feather hat. When they returned to the main space, Killian sat on the couch’s arm, wincing as he tested the damage done to his head. Emma retrieved an icepack from the freezer and touched it to the growing bump.

He flinched and almost lost his seat. Emma steadied him, apologized, and shortly after her parents, Regina, and Henry walked through the door.

_-_-_-_-_-_

...Now…

Regina, David, and Mary Margaret stood dumbfounded and astonished. Henry was looking at Emma and Killian like he was still processing just what his potatoes had been spent on: the daily, delinquent adventures of one of his moms and her boyfriend.

Emma winced with guilt and Killian sighed in remorse.

“So,” Mary Margaret tried to comprehend, shaking her head, “you didn’t hit your head on the cabinet door looking for mugs to make hot cocoa and cinnamon? You hit your head with one of Henry’s potatoes?”

“Aye,” Killian confessed. “That I did.”

“Well,” Emma wrung her fingers and glanced at Killian one last time, “and…and that’s what happened to the potatoes.”

**Author's Note:**

> I told you this fic was RIDICULOUS! But oh, so much fun to write.  
> I'm sorry this took me sooo long to write. I hope it lives up to expectations!  
> Again, this fanfic is for kybee1497.tumblr.com. I'm truealphabellamy.tumblr.com, if any of you are curious about my blog.  
> This was actually my first Captain Swan fic, so please leave some comments for feedback! I'd greatly appreciate it. I hope you all enjoyed and thanks for reading :)


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